


To Drive Out a Snake

by Supergeek21



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Comedy, Crowley Hates St. Patrick's Day, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Historical, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, My First Fanfic, No Smut, Not Beta Read, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens), Pre-Relationship, Rated T for swearing, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snake!Crowley - Freeform, Snakes Speak Parseltongue, Snektember, just a little pining, through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supergeek21/pseuds/Supergeek21
Summary: Over a night of drinks Crowley vents about why he hates St. Patrick's Day.Or... what started as a simple idea about Crowley and a serpentine accomplice getting driven out of Ireland turned into 6K words of nonsense flashbacks centered around a lovesick python and allusions to my other personal headcannons.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64
Collections: Snektember 2020





	To Drive Out a Snake

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I've been reading Good Omens Fanfiction for like six months now and I never thought I'd actually commit to writing it, but then this stupid little idea came into my head Sunday night and I thought I'd write 2k words and post it for St. Patrick's Day, since I'm working from home and have extra time on my hands. As I should have expected, that didn't happen. It's much longer and much weirder than I ever imagined it would get. lol Soooo... I know it's a day late, but what the Hell, we cancelled the actual holiday so enjoy this St. Patrick's day nonsense on March 18! 
> 
> A few quick notes:  
> -This is not beta'd or brit-picked. I tried my best with British cursing and slang and that's it.  
> -My history is iffy. I did a 20 minute St. Patrick search on Wikipedia and since his only know dates are "the fifth century" I ran with that. The Roman Empire did fall in that same century, so I don't feel too bad for any over-simplifying I've done.  
> -Romans had pet snakes. They also brought exotic animals from Africa. How else this python got to Rome is anyone's guess.  
> -St. Patrick's staff really was rumored to have belonged to Jesus.  
> -This is my first fanfic ever, and the first time I've ever let anyone read any of my creative writing, so kudos and comments are appreciated, but please be gentle. 
> 
> ENJOY!

**Tadfield, Present Day**

"So you're telling me that you two are responsible for the whole mess of prohibition?" Anathema gasped as she reached over to refill the wine glasses of the angel and demon currently sitting on her couch. About a year and half had passed since the failed end of the world, and Aziraphale had made a point of dragging Crowley out on double dates with the witch and her technologically deficient boyfriend.

  
"Unintentionally, yes... unfortunately," Aziraphale muttered, looking somewhat ashamed of himself. "I was trying to help those poor women. Obviously things got a bit out of hand..."

"My involvement was completely intentional," Crowley interjected, saving his stammering partner, and taking a long swig from his own wine glass. "I didn't even know this bloody fool was involved, I just wanted to get out of the country and saw a practical invitation for chaos."

"Now that doesn't surprise me as much," Anathema said with a shrug.

"Of course my end got out of control too," the demon admitted. "I was all for bootlegging and hiding bars from the police. Those speakeasies were practical breeding grounds for sin, but I never was one for senseless violence. I had to take off once Al started getting out of hand."

"Al?" Newton interjected, finally snapped out of the stunned silence he'd been sitting in since Aziraphale had accidentally let his first prohibition comment slip. "Not? You're not talking about Al Capone?"

"Well who else do you think I'd be talking about?" Crowley snapped. "I told you I was encouraging the bootlegging business. No better place to be than Chicago for that racket. It was fun for a while too, like the good old days of piracy. Anyway I buggered off before things could get too ugly and ended up back here just in time to take credit for starting the next world war."

Aziraphale shook his head. "I always suspected you were behind some of that."

"Oh, really?" Crowley said, looking smugly at the angel. "I didn't see you swooping in to thwart me if you thought something particularly demonic was going on." 

"I thought you still weren't speaking to me! And honestly, dear boy, it was one time I didn't care who from your side was behind it, I had no inclination to do any thwarting. Anyway, it all worked out alright in the end. The humans straightened the mess out for themselves."

"I'll say," Anathema snorted. "No one would dream of banning alcohol in Chicago these days, especially not this time of year. Which reminds me! We were thinking of coming up to London for the parade in a couple of weeks, would you like to join us and grab a bite?"

"The parade?" Aziraphale asked, looking puzzled as Crowley scowled next to him. Being immortal often meant the angel lost track of dates and holidays when he wasn't explicitly reminded by colorful lights and decorations filling the streets.

"Yes, the St. Patrick's Day parade, Newt's mom is letting us stay with her. I thought it would be fun."

Anathema trailed off as Crowley let out a frustrated hiss and Aziraphale's face fell. 

"Please dear, let's not start this again," the angel said, his voice filled with embarrassment as he laid a comforting hand, cautiously on the demon's shoulder.

But Crowley was already rolling.

"Bloody St. Patrick!" he spat. "Of all the holier than thou, goody-goodies your lot threw their weight behind, why does that wanker get his own fucking parade?"

Newt choked on his wine; a mix of shock and laughter battling for control of his response.

"Did I miss something?" Anathema asked, struggling to hide her own amusement at the demon's outburst.

"Crowley has a bit of a grudge against Patrick," Aziraphale tried to explain swiftly. "Which, even you have to admit is a bit harsh my dear," he added, looking directly at Crowley. "I mean, he was a very nice young man, and it wasn't personal."

Crowley made an inarticulate sound, and tore his dark glasses off to glare at the angel. "A bit harsh? He bludgeoned me upside the head and exercised me into the sea! Which, by the way, he wouldn't even have been able to do, if it weren't for you and your bloody miraclesss!"

"What are they on about?" Newt whispered to Anathema, squeezing his girlfriend's hand. For as much as he enjoyed their company, Newt was still nervous around the supernatural beings and watching them bicker he was always just slightly concerned that something was going to explode.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," Anathema admitted, though looking at Crowley's increasingly frustrated yellow glare, she had a suspicion.

"...and then the bastard goes and takes credit for removing a whole bloody sspeciess from an island where it never really existed and uses it as evidence to convert people to heaven's side. I swear! It's ridiculous!"

Before he could continuity his profanity laced rant, the humans completely forgotten at this point, Anathema interrupted the demon's increasingly angry ramblings.

"Crowley?" she interjected, drawing the attention of both the demon and the angel. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but were you driven out of Ireland as a snake?"

"That is exactly what happened, but I swear you have never heard this story properly," Crowley answered, looking somewhat satisfied that he was going to finally be able to tell this tale to someone other than Aziraphale. "To start with there aren't, and never have been, snakes in Ireland..."

The Angel slumped back into his seat on the couch and took a long swig from his wine glass, silently thanking the almighty he'd never accidentally gotten alcohol banned in Britain. He'd heard this story before and he had a feeling this was going to be a long telling of it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Hell, 5th Century A.D.**

Crowley sprawled himself into the creaky chair at Dagon's desk opposite his scowling supervisor. The chair was horrendously uncomfortable and after 4,000 years of performance reviews sitting in it, Crowley knew there was nothing that would make it less unpleasant. The same could very much be said about Dagon, who was perpetually snarling through their rows of extra teeth despite Crowley not actually having done anything to insight their wrath... this time.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Dagon snapped, pulling open Crowley's most recent project file and glancing at it. "As always you've been a little excessive with your use of dark miracles, but, unfortunately, I can't argue with the results. Looks like the chaos you've been spreading around the Roman Empire has been effective. At this trajectory, it shall have fallen by then end of the century. Probably a commendation in it for you if that happens. So keep up the bad work, I suppose."

"Of course, my Lord," Crowley muttered. He would never turn down a commendation, but he had to admit he hadn't been trying very hard (or at all) to bring down the empire. Yes, he'd been working to sow general discord, annoy the citizens and tempt average humans to sin but Rome itself was a plush assignment. He'd cheated Hastur in a bet to get it and he wasn't in any great hurry to see it collapse and find himself a less developed part of the world.

"One minor thing Crowley," Dagon said, before Crowley had a chance to slither out of the chair in an attempt to end the meeting early (he had dinner plans with a certain angel who was only back in Rome for a quick blessing and he had no intention of missing them).

"It says here you've had a couple of miracles backfire on you. What's that about?" Dagon asked.

"I was actually hoping you might tell me," Crowley said with an exasperated sigh. "That's been a real pain in my arse. I've been trying to miracle a snake away, back to its natural habitat and every time I try it just pops right back where it was a second later."

A look of clarity replaced Dagon's sneer for a moment before they returned back to their natural unpleasantness. "Ah. That explains it!" Dagon said. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed before. Your magic can't do much to snakes, probably something to do with you getting the whole species cursed by Heaven. Just a technicality. It's all here in your corporation's user agreement. I assumed you'd read that and would have known not to try it," they added with a sneer.

Of course Crowley had never read his corporation's paperwork. Any time he needed it replaced he signed whatever agreement Hell put in front of him so he could get a body and get back to Earth as quickly as possible (even if that meant several decades).

"Right!" he said brightly, trying to hide this obvious dereliction of paperwork duty. "Must have slipped my mind. After all, 4,500 years. Can't remember everything. Not something that comes up very often."

"Why are you even bothering to miracle a snake back to nature?" Dagon asked, voiced tinged with something that might have been disgust tinged with amusement. "I thought the humans were afraid of them. Seems having one wandering around would be a nuisance, not unlike yourself."

Crowley ignored the jab. It was hardly the worst thing his superiors had ever said about him. "I hadn't planned on it," he explained. "She actually was quite useful for a while, but then things got... complicated."

Dagon glowered at him. Apparently this vague explanation was not going to be good enough to end this conversation. Crowley groaned. This was going to be embarrassing.

"Alright. So about two months ago I was snooping around for trouble, as a snake, scaring a few passers-by here and there, you know, nothing unusual when I hear this angry hissing. And I look into the next house and there's this python, crammed into a basket being kept as some kind pet by this barmy witch! She's clearly angry and scared and I've used snakes before to help me with my dirty work, so I tell her I'll let her out if she does me a favor. So I turn back into a human, knock the basket over, snatch up the snake and that's that. I'm out with a new informant."

Crowley paused, hoping he'd managed to lose Dagon's interest, but while the Lord of the Files still looked bored and irritated, they did not let him off the hook.

"So how does that lead to you attempting to magic your new minion back to Africa?" they asked.

Crowley glanced on the hour glass on Dagon's desk. "Don't you have another appointment soon?"

"It's just Hastur," Dagon said, rolling their eyes. "I'm in no hurry, and the way you're squirming I think this is going to be good."

Crowley sighed. "Yeah... anyway, this snake, she does a couple of jobs for me. Tells me what she picked up from the witch. Sneaks into a couple of nobles' houses to get leverage on them; work I'd usually have to waste miracles shape-shifting on. It was a real productivity booster, but I started to suspect she was getting too attached to me."

"That's hard to believe," Dagon snorted.

"I don't get it either!" Crowley said with a shrug. "Apparently she remembered I was a snake when I first talked to her and she... well..."

"Are you telling me this snake is infatuated with you?"

Crowley squirmed and glanced at the floor. _Satan this is embarrassing!_

His silence didn't go unnoticed. Dagon's multiple rows of teeth split into a disturbing grin and they laughed hysterically.

"Would you keep it down?!" Crowley hissed. "I don't need this getting around! I'm only telling you because I need help getting rid of her! She won't leave me alone. She follows me everywhere. I wake up in the morning with her practically strangling me. I've tried telling her we're even and she can go about her life but she won't take the hint. The first time I tried to miracle her away and it didn't work she got a little sulky and I thought at least then she'd leave me alone but she just curled up under my bed for a few days to pout. When she finally left I thought 'at least that's the end of that' but when I got home that night she was waiting for me with a couple of dead rats and invited me to 'slip into my real form and join her for a snack.' As if I'd ever eat some disgusting rat!"

Crowley realized at once (and far too late) that he had said entirely too much. He tended to get carried away when he ranted and it was obvious from the delighted but vindictive grin on his supervisor's face that he would not be living this debacle down for at least a few centuries.

"So now you know why I've been using faulty miracles for the last few weeks. I've been trying to ditch a lovesick snake," the Serpent of Eden huffed. "But every time she annoys me and I try to snap her away, she just comes right back in snit. So there. That's it. You've had your laugh, now can you do something to get me out of this mess?"

"Unfortunately I think I can," Dagon answered when they'd finally stopped howling with laughter. "You've got a new assignment. Like I said, the Empire's on track to fall, you're being moved. Apparently Heaven's got some blessed bishop going around some tiny northern island called Ireland getting a lot of pagans to worship the Almighty. Bad for our business. Stick it out with your girlfriend for another couple weeks in Rome to tie up your loose ends then report there. See if you can slow them down."

"Fine," Crowley said, taking the file Dagon was holding out to him. He wasn't thrilled about a relocation, but if Heaven was really behind this new phenomenon in Ireland, then maybe at least the company would be better there. He knew upstairs wasn't in the habit of dispatching more than one agent to Earth at a time, and Aziraphale had mentioned he'd been working further north.

"Am I excused, My Lord?" Crowley asked. He could hear Hastur lurking in the hallway and he hoped if he sucked up enough, the Master of Torments wouldn't feel the need to share his embarrassing revelation with the Duke.

"Yes. You can go," Dagon said with a dismissive wave.

Crowley slid out of the chair and sauntered to the door. He passed Hastur on the way out, who eyed him suspiciously, and Crowley wondered how much he had overheard. It took a lot to make Dagon laugh. He'd be suspicious in the Duke's place too.

"Oh and Crowley," Dagon called before he could effectively slip through the doorway "say hello to the Missus for me!"

Crowley growled and let the door slam behind him as he heard Dagon cackle again and begin to regale Hastur with his problems. _So much for discretion,_ he thought glumly.

\----------------------------------------------

**Ireland, 3 weeks later**

As expected, Crowley didn't like Ireland as much as he had Rome. It was damp. But at least that bloody snake was gone!

Ditching Ssselphine (the approximate human translation of his smitten informant's parseltongue name) hadn't been easy. The serpent kept getting clingier, and more forward in her physical affections, wrapping her tail around his legs any time he tried to sit down so he couldn't get up and pestering him about why he insisted on staying in his 'awkward leggy shape.' His attempts to convince her that he was a human magician and only occasionally turned into a snake hadn't fooled her (his eyes were too much of a giveaway) and telling her he was a demon hadn't phased her.

Eventually he'd resorted to making up assignments for her to undertake to buy himself some peace and quiet. She was still eager to please, despite his having told her bluntly he had no intention of mating with her when she 'casually' mentioned that mating season was approaching.

"Look," he'd hissed. "You're nice, for a snake. If you want I'll sneak you onto a boat to Africa so you can go back and meet other nice snakes, but I'm not interested. Look at me! I clearly prefer this shape. It's for a reason."

Of course this was not entirely true. Crowley was technically human-shaped at the moment, but he had only slightly more sexual interest in humans than he did in snakes (which was to say he'd occasionally kissed humans for fun or temptation and not hated it). Seeing as how the only being he WAS interested in was also currently human-shaped though, he considered it a wash.

She'd hissed testily at him and slithered out to spy on a senator. Crowley slumped against the door frame in relief as she left. He had to tie up the loose ends of his human alias and extricate himself fast. The snake's absence bought him time. He had no reason to suspect that while his admirer was out on her errand another demon would pay her a visit.

\------------

"Alright Angel, what's the play here?" Crowley asked as slid into the seat opposite Aziraphale in the pub. It had taken him only three days to track down the angel's whereabouts. He practically left a trail of joyful, miraculous energy behind him wherever he went. Once he'd had his rough location pinpointed it had taken Crowley only a minute to sniff him out and spot his familiar blond curls in the tavern.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale greeted him with a surprised smile. "I thought you were still in Rome."

"I was. Plans changed. Apparently Heaven is getting too many converts in this area and I'm supposed to get in the way."

"Ah. So this is about Patrick then?" Aziraphale sighed. "I didn't realize I'd already drawn Hell's attention."

"So you are behind this?" Crowley said, less a question than a statement. "Figured as much."

"Not exactly," the Angel said with a shy smile. "Patrick is his own person. He was already a priest when I met him. I've just been...encouraging him."

"Miraculously," Crowley supplied.

"I don't think we should be talking about this," Aziraphale said. "If you're here to thwart me, I think I'll be on my way."

"Oh relax Angel," Crowley huffed, slumping back into his chair, and helping himself to the jug of ale the angel had been drinking from. "I just want to know what to report. I don't really give a damn if you've blessed some bloody bishop. Frankly, I just wanted to get out of Rome. I had a little bit of a personal issue I needed to extricate myself from."

"Oh!" the angel looked relieved and he cautiously sat back down. "Nothing bad I hope?"

"I'm a demon, I don't mind bad," Crowley shrugged. "This was annoying. Let's just say no less-than-evil deed goes unpunished and move on. I don't want to talk about it."

Thankfully, Aziraphale agreed and changed the subject. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do shy of bathing in holy water was tell the angel about Ssselphine (it was bad enough the angel would never be interested, he didn't need him knowing exactly what kind of creatures actually were).

Crowley was just walking into the small house Hell had arranged for his stay when something went wrong. Without warning and completely without his control, the demon began to feel his body shift. His usually loose limbs locked together and he felt himself collapse, condense and elongate.

As he lie on the floor trying to remember the last time he'd lost complete control of his corporation's form (it had been some time in Egypt after imbibing entirely too much beer) he heard a familiar hissing voice and felt his stomach drop.

"It worked!" Ssselphine excitedly hissed.

"Ssselphine?!" Crowley gaped. He'd left the snake moping on a dock outside Rome, after telling her which ships would get her somewhere warmer and specifically not telling her where he was going. "What worked? What the Hell did you do?"

Ssselphine was far too excited to answer his question logically, and continued babbling half to herself as she slithered over and nuzzled her head up against Crowley's side. "He told me if I let him put an enchantment on me, then you'd change back when you sssaw me and it worked!" 

"Who did? What enchantment? For Go- for Sssatan's sssake tell me how you made me shape-shift!" the demon demanded.

"A magician," Ssselphine finally answered. "He found me in Rome before you left. He told me he owed you one and said he'd help you remember what you really are, but I had to let you leave first."

Crowley felt his insides clench. He had a bad feeling about this. "Owed me did he? Ssssso, this magician... what did he look like? He didn't happen to be a tall bloke with white, dirty hair did he?"

"Yessss!" the snake excitedly hissed.

"Did he have a toad with him?" Crowley asked, already knowing the answer.

"He did! Ssssemed a bit ssstrange," Ssselphine said, giving the serpentine equivalent of a shrug.

"God-blesssssed! Bloody Hassstur! I'll kill the bassstard," Crowley hissed. If he'd been speaking any human language he'd have been sputtering, but because he was currently limited to parseltongue (and telepathy to near-by non-reptiles) he made due by putting extra venom into the hissing.

"Well he did ssssay he knew you," the python said. "What doesss it matter? You're yoursssself now, we can ssspend ssssome quality time together."

The snake was talking in what, in a human voice, would be described as a seductive purr. Crowley flinched away as he felt her tail start to coil over his.

"I can't deal with thissss right now," Crowley yelped, trying to slither away as fast as possible. "I have bussssinesss to take care of. Important busssinesss. Ssssstay here! I have to find sssssomeone. We can talk about this, but later."

The demon managed to disentangled himself from the python and made a break for the door, focusing with all his might on regaining his human form. By the time he got about half a mile away he found he was successful.

 _Huh. That's interesting. Must be a distance-based curse,_ he realized with relief. _Of course, Hastur would be in too much trouble if I was stuck as a snake permanently and couldn't foil Aziraphale's bishop._ Crowley couldn't believe Hastur had come up with something that clever, but then again, he did his best work when he was out for revenge.

Crowley needed to think this through. He couldn't go back to the house, not if it meant being stuck in serpent form with a lovesick python, but he also couldn't exactly show up at Aziraphale's doorstep and ask him to miracle away a cursed snake for him. He wasn't sure the angel would do it. Sure, he'd meet him for dinner now and then or let him join him for a quick drink, but their friendship (or at least what Crowley hoped was friendship) felt tentative at best. He doubted the angel would be too keen on using his ethereal powers to help him... plus it would almost definitely require him to actually explain his request and he'd be blessed before he told anyone (let alone the angel, he may or may not be madly attracted to) that he both had a rogue python attempting to seduce him and that he was powerless to make it stop. No. He'd just have to find alternative living arrangements. Then he could find Aziraphale's priest, tempt him into doing something stupid and get the Hell off this island and somewhere cold enough to deter Ssselphine from following... Maybe there was something he could do in Mongolia these days.

\----------

Crowley was living a short distance from the house where he'd left Sssselphine. He couldn't go too far without drawing Hell's suspicions (or losing track of his mark) so he'd tempted a local couple to make a surprise visit to their relatives in the next village. It would take them several days to get there, get kicked out, and get back. Enough time for him to figure out a plan.

Luckily for Crowley, finding Patrick was not too hard, because he was frequently in the same vicinity as Aziraphale. It was easy enough for the demon to find the angel, now all he'd have to do was wait for them to part ways. Preferably when his serpentine stalker wasn't around.

It taken only a day for Crowley to realize that Hastur's curse had also given Ssselphine a sort of extra sense with which to track him down. Whether or not Hastur even realized that himself, Crowley didn't know, but every now and then Crowley would sense her come within range of him and he'd have exactly three seconds' warning before his corporation shifted uncontrollably into his snake form, much to the confusion and horror of any human in the vicinity.

She'd only spotted him before he could hide once. His black scales and demonic powers made blending into shadows an easy task, but even so, he had to be quick about it if he didn't want to spend an hour brushing off aggressive sexual advances.

On the fourth day of this cat and mouse game, Crowley was fairly certain he was alone. What was even better, was so was Patrick. The angel had apparently seen fit to go about other business and the bishop was sitting by himself on a grassy hill outside town, his eyes closed, presumably in prayer, and an elaborate staff lying next to his feet.

This was his chance. Just like with Yeshua out in the desert all those centuries ago (not that that temptation had been remotely successful; It had been a pleasant few days of conversation though). He took a deep breath and grinned, brushing some dirt off his clothes and trying to shake off the stress of the past few days. He had to regain his composure.

Adjusting his tinted lenses to hide his eyes as best he could, the demon sauntered towards the future saint in the coolest way he could manage. Patrick was facing out towards the sea, his back to Crowley; he'd have a fantastic element of surprise.

"Nice day isn't it?" he managed to get out before he toppled forward and he felt his corporation shift once again.

"Ssssson of a..." Crowley swore as the wind was knocked out of his serpentine body. He was now lying in the grass and Patrick was looking around for the source of the voice he'd heard only a moment before.

As the bishop continued to glance around, Crowley's last hope abandoned him as he heard Ssselphine's relieved hiss.

"There you are!" the snake shouted, slithering quickly towards him. "I've been looking everywhere."

"Sssshit..." Crowley muttered. He felt like things couldn't get worse. Then they distinctly did. 

Ssselphine's rapid movement and Crowley's serpentine cursing had drawn Patrick's attention. The man let out a startled cry and leapt to his feet.

Before Crowley had a chance to retreat or even try to shut up his advancing admirer he felt a searing hot pain jolt through his body.

 _Bloody Hell!_ he thought, his head throbbing. "What in Satan's name..?" He looked up in time to see Patrick pulling back his staff to give him another solid thumping. He dodged his head out of the way of the blow but it caught his tail and burned more than any normal stick had any right to.

 _The damn thing's holy!_ Crowley thought to himself in a panic. _Stupid angel. Could have warned me the bastard had a blessed weapon!_

Crowley's dodge away from Patrick had put the bishop's aim off him and squarely on Ssselphine. Crowley felt torn between pity and joy as the staff landed a blow on one of her lower coils, then remembered this whole thing was her fault. Besides it wouldn't hurt her half as bad as it did him, she wasn't a demon.

Letting the python fend for herself, Crowley attempted to slink away back towards town. If he could get far enough away he could retake human form and rethink this endeavor. Maybe he could at least find Aziraphale and give him a piece of his mind over that staff.

Unfortunately, Crowley's luck wasn't done running out just yet.

The frantic shouting and hissing from the hill had drawn the attention of a local shepherd and now a small crowd was approaching from town. A crowd that did not take kindly to a giant black and red snake heading its way.

A dog barked, a man drew a blade and Crowley found himself slithering back in the other direction where Patrick was now successfully herding Ssselphine towards the sea. It didn't take long for him to realize he had two snakes in front of him again and Crowley had to dodge another blow from the holy staff before launching himself down the rocky shore and into the water.

"Be gone serpents and never return!" the Bishop shouted, and Crowley felt a burst of low grade heavenly magic radiate from the staff. The man didn't know it, but he'd invoked a miracle.

Crowley heard the small crowd cheer, as he bobbed in the water (which was miraculously warm for the north sea) next to the python. He sighed. He'd have to wait until the crowd dispersed before he get back on land and then he'd have to lose her again, but that seemed like it might take a while as Patrick had now captivated the crowd with a story of his staff, blessed by God.

 _Fantastic._ The demon thought sulkily, wrapping himself partially around a rock. _Now I've given him a bigger audience._

Crowley was so lost in his own self-pitying thoughts he almost didn't notice an angelic presence approaching.

"Is that you Crowley?" Aziraphale asked from the edge of the water.

 _Aziraphale?!_ Crowley asked, his mind reaching out to communicate with the angel. _Yeah! It's me. I'm stuck out here like this._

"Why don't you just change back?" the angel called back. "I'm sure that blessing isn't strong enough to notice your dual forms."

_It's a long story. I can't get into now. I promise I'll buy you a drink and tell you another time if you just do me a tiny favor and miracle this damn python back to Africa?_

Next to him on another rock Ssselphine gave an affronted gasp.

"Sssorry," Crowley said, not even slightly sincerely. "I can't live like thissss."

Thankfully Aziraphale didn't bother asking more questions and granted the demon's request. Ssselphine vanished before she could retort, and Crowley wasted no time shifting back into his favorite shape. Despite this massive improvement to his situation, Crowley soon discovered he was far from saved when he tried to step on the beach and found himself painfully stung.

"Ow! Bless it all Angel, I thought you said that miracle wouldn't recognize me!" he shouted.

Aziraphale huffed indignantly at Crowley's demonic swearing. "It shouldn't have. I suppose it was stronger than it felt. Not sure how, most humans can't activate magic that strong. I suppose I'll have to look into it."

"Well you really did it this time," Crowley snapped. "Congratulations, you've actually thwarted me for once. I'll let it go unanswered this time since you got rid of the bloody python, but we've got to figure out a way to avoid this next time."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Aziraphale said. "It's not like I'm in the habit of making deals with demons. Now, if you'll excuse me. There was a lot of magic just expended, I'm afraid I'm going to have to come up with a good reason to give to heaven. If you leave now, I may not have to include you in the report." The angel seemed to think better of what he'd said and added in "It will look better for both of us not to have this mess on a record."

Crowley raised a quizzical eyebrow at his counterpart. "Right," he said. "See you around," then he snapped his fingers and a small rowboat appeared that he clambered into.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Tadfield, Present Day**

"And because of those idiots I couldn't set foot in Ireland for nearly a century," Crowley concluded to a stunned looking Newt and Anathema. "I never heard the end of it in Hell. When that stick-happy wanker got named a saint, and was credited with driving all the snakes out of Ireland I got recalled for a year of desk duty to make up for my grotesque failings. I think it was just so Dagon could have an opportunity to mock me..."

"I did the best I could with that report!" Aziraphale said defensively. "We both knew it was best not to mention you, so I said the holy staff got rid of the dangerous snakes. I knew Gabriel wouldn't pay enough attention to know there were no snakes in that part of the world..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Crowley said. "I've heard it before. We stayed off Heaven's radar. Well done. Meanwhile I was the laughing stock of Hell for years!"

There was an awkward pause as Crowley threw back the rest of his wine.

"You know I didn't find out until years later that staff actually belonged to Yeshua originally," Aziraphale said, still intent on defending himself. "Nobody told me anything when I was given the assignment. I was just told to give it to him with a blessing. I know we didn't have the Arrangement back then but I would have at least told you to be careful."

Crowley nodded exaggeratedly. "Of course, of course. You cared. Even then. You've told me," he said with a dismissive wave. "You're still an idiot, but I love you anyway."

"Okay!" Anathema interrupted, before the two of them could go off on another tangent. "So, basically, you hate St. Patrick's Day because he hit you with a stick, banned you from Ireland, and got you in trouble at work, because you were stuck as a snake as part of a revenge prank by another demon? Is that really what you're saying?"

"Essentially," Crowley admitted, he was almost embarrassed hearing it spelled out so simply. "Though I would never classify anything Hastur did to me as a prank. It far undersells his malice... He did get punished though for bungling my mission. Not as bad as I got, but 's something."

"That might be the dumbest thing I've ever heard," the witch said with a laugh.

Crowley looked affronted. "Excuse me, Book Girl! Let's see how you like getting hit on the head with a blessed walking ssssstick and having to row all the way to Scotland. See if you're in a forgiving mood!"

The demon's outrage did little to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck, and Aziraphale, unable to control himself any longer burst out laughing.

"It's not funny, Angel!" Crowley gasped, his face getting redder.

"It's alright darling," the angel said, patting Crowley's leg. "You don't have to like St. Patrick getting attention, but you do have to admit the story is funny."

Crowley stared down the angel and the two humans in front of him and snorted as he tried to hold back a chuckle.

"Eh, point taken," he said with a huff.

Aziraphale leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

The demon sighed. "I'll meet them for dinner but I'm still not going to that damn parade," he said in an attempt to salvage the last of his dignity.

The little group laughed.

"Fair enough, dear," Aziraphale said with a grin.

**\---The End---**

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in March but thought it was fitting for [slateblueflower's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slateblueflowers/pseuds/slateblueflowers) #snektember prompt list for 9/9: Historical/Through the Ages.
> 
> If you enjoyed this please check out my other works or follow me on Social Media on [Tumblr](https://supergeek21.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jessiemarie921/), or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/JessieMarie921).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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